


Collide

by flintwoodandco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance, practice writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintwoodandco/pseuds/flintwoodandco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver wins the Cup and then some</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collide

Oliver hates Christmas Parties. 

Yes, he has the extra time for strategizing Quidditch plays and enjoys the overall holiday cheer, but there’s just one thing. For Oliver, it’s been quite unfortunate that the majority of Christmas Parties he’s attended are the ones at the Flint household. Every year, his parents force him to be near the last person he wants to be with and all for the silly friendship between his mother and Mrs. Flint. 

Oliver’s had to profusely apologize for saying such in the past and supposes this is his punishment. He feels a bit awkward since, for all he can tell, he and Marcus are the only teenagers at the party. The house is dimly lit with candles, almost appearing too perfect with the way it’s decorated. Garland on the stair banister, neatly hung pictures on the walls. Not a single thing seems out of place, even Marcus, who stands in the corner glowering at every passing person. 

“Well? Say hello to him,” Oliver’s mother whispers and gives her son a push towards Marcus. Oliver tries to swat her away, but she isn’t giving up.

Oliver never did explain his rivalry with Marcus to his mother. He didn’t need another lecture plus he felt a little guilty for hurting her feelings about her friendships. For all his mother knew, he and Marcus were slowly getting into mutual terms, despite how they’ve avoided each other during Christmas parties in the past. 

Turning back towards Marcus, Oliver is shocked to see him looking in his direction with an expression that isn’t disgust. Something in Oliver rises, as if Marcus is presenting a challenge, and he strides forward. Marcus momentarily looks terrified before he sneers at Oliver. 

“What do you want?”

Off to an excellent start. Oliver wants to roll his eyes, but instead feels like goading a bit.

“We’re going to win this year, you know,” he stares evenly at Marcus.

“You don’t say.” There’s an air of disinterest in Marcus’s voice but Oliver doesn’t let that sway him.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking of trying out some of the moves that Puddlemere uses. Should give us a bit of an advantage.”

He tries to ignore the scoff that comes out of Marcus, especially when the boy responds with, “Puddlemere’s strategy? Really?”

“If you’ve got better suggestions, I’d love to hear them,” Oliver responds, more tight-lipped than usual.

Marcus lets out what sounds like an attempt at laughter and shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “Of course I’ve got better suggestions. Take Ballycastle’s last game. If it wasn’t for that turnaround play during the last half, Montrose would’ve beaten them.”

“What?” Oliver balks at this. “No, that was an illegal pass and you know it.”

Oliver’s pretty sure he sees a fire ignite in Marcus’s eyes and backs away to avoid an onslaught of fists. To his surprise however, all Marcus does is shrug and takes a long drink from his cup.

“If you want to look at it that way,” he finally responds.

There is a brief silence and both take to looking anywhere but at each other, unsure of where to go next. They both hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Of course,” Oliver begins. “You can’t deny that brilliant move during the game against Tutshill.”

Marcus’s face lights up to a degree Oliver never thought possible and the boy begins rambling on about how great the chasers were, going so far as to listen all the wonderful things on his fingers. Oliver is in too much of shock to stop him, but Marcus figures it out for himself, quieting down almost instantly. 

“But yeah, whatever,” he shrugs as if the moment before never happened. He even gives Oliver a glare as if to say such. 

Oliver can’t help the small laugh that leaves his mouth, unsure of this warmth he feels. For a moment, he takes to looking at Marcus as his mind starting to wander towards what could have been. He shakes himself quickly of these thoughts though and almost rolls his eyes at the imagery of them being friends. All Oliver manages to do next is swallow and just stand near Marcus as the silence inches in again. 

“So, Hufflepuff this year, hmm?” Marcus mumbles over the rim of his cup and Oliver takes that as his cue.

The rest of the evening speeds by as the two boys talk about quidditch, only occasionally straying to other topics if the opportunity comes up. It feels so natural to Oliver that he doesn’t even realize hours have passed until his mother finds him to take him home. 

His stomach drops when he looks at Marcus, knowing all too well what might happen when they go back to Hogwarts. The other boy seems to hold a similar understanding beneath his now cold stare and Oliver breathes in.

“Well, I guess it was alright talking with you.”

“Yeah, this was…,” Marcus looks as if he’s trying to say something not insulting and Oliver jumps in.

“Nice.”

Relief passes on the Slytherin’s face and he nods in return. The two stare at each other, neither wanting to say goodbye, but Oliver strikes up the courage first and gives Marcus a small wave before following after his parents. 

When his mother questions how his evening went, Oliver can’t help but feel it was something good. Maybe even more than that.

~

Back at Hogwarts, everything seems back to normal. Marcus is his usual bullying self and it almost pains Oliver to see him in such a manner. After the Christmas party, Oliver had hoped he had broken down some hostilities, though now it just seems like an odd dream. 

They’ve been partnered up in several classes for projects, but all Oliver is greeted by is Marcus’s sour face and nothing more to indicate the glimmer of friendship they almost had. Oliver hates how hard he’s taking it, not just because he’s never been able to find someone as interested in talking about quidditch as Marcus. Even when he tries to bring the sport up, it’s as if Marcus is purposefully ignoring him and it comes to the point where Oliver simply stops trying.

He glances over at the Slytherin table during breakfast, seeing Marcus wrapped up in conversation with Adrian and almost, just almost, wishes he could be a part of it. Oliver wouldn’t dare admit he’s envious and takes to looking at his plate, just missing Percy’s passing comment.

“Hmm?” Oliver responds, but it’s too late for any kind of redemption and Percy looks miffed.

“I said, we’ve got that exam coming up in Transfiguration. Are you ready?”

Oliver’s stomach drops. He’s spent so much time thinking about quidditch and, dare he say Marcus, that everything else has gotten lost in shuffle. No, he most certainly is not ready.

~

Any last hope Oliver had to win the Cup is gone. Of course, as much as he wants to say it’s Harry’s fault, he simply can’t. No one could’ve expected the dementors and then Harry falling off his broom, but it still gnaws at Oliver’s brain.

He’s been standing in the showers for so long now that his feet are starting to ache as the water pours down his body. This was supposed to be his year. If he didn’t get the Cup, then what was the point of even trying out for Puddlemere after graduation? 

Finally, Oliver decides it’s time to face the world and he leaves the showers, dressing ever so slowly in front of his locker. Once finished, he gives the room a once over and closes the door behind him, jumping at the sight of Marcus waiting outside.

“I thought you said you were going to win this year.”

“Piss off,” Oliver says through gritted teeth and shoves past him to make his way up to the castle. 

“Can’t really blame Potter thought, what with the dementors,” Marcus continues on as if he wants actual conversation. Something that had been lacking between the two of them for months now. It isn’t the best time though as Oliver just wants to go back to his room and sleep everything off.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he responds impatiently. 

“Look.” Marcus steps in front of Oliver just as they reach the inside of the castle. The Slytherin stares him down. “Losing against Hufflepuff doesn’t mean you still can’t win the cup.”

“Since when do you care?” Oliver sighs out, now very agitated at Marcus blocking his way. He tries to ignore the hurt that passes on Marcus’s face before the Slytherin scowls. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

At this, Oliver gives in to his irritability. “Oh no, of course not. Why would I ever think that you, Marcus Flint, would care about anyone but yourself?” 

Before Oliver can react, he’s slammed against a wall, Marcus’s face inches from him. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?” 

Oliver tries to squirm out of the Slytherin’s hold, but an arm is right at his throat and he’s finding it hard to breath. The two of them linger in silence, only Oliver’s labored breathing to be heard as they stare each other down. Their eyes flick back and forth, neither willing to break their gazes until Oliver starts feeling like he’s really going to pass out and uses all his strength to push Marcus away. 

Oliver wants to say something back, a comment that’ll really sting, but the words die on his lips. It’s too much effort and Marcus isn’t worth the time. Grey eyes stare questioning and all Oliver can do is shake his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles out, though he’s not sure why he’s the one apologizing. 

Not wanting to think about it anymore, he turns away from Marcus and heads towards the Great Hall. He hopes that’ll at least deter Marcus from following him. 

“You just...you need to watch yourself too, Oliver. If you don’t do that, you won’t win the Cup.”

Oliver stops mid-step, not daring to look over his shoulder. The words that just came from Marcus were almost too kind for someone like him. The whole situation feels like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, but when Oliver finally turns around to say something, Marcus is gone. Letting out a huff, the Gryffindor charges down the hallway, his mood not improved in the slightest.

~

The Hogsmeade weekend couldn’t come soon enough and Oliver made sure he wasn’t to miss out on this one. After all, Spintwitches announced a new inventory of quidditch supplies that Oliver had to at least look at. (Whether he would buy was another story since Percy was his voice of reason and wasn’t coming this time.) 

Walking over seems to take no time at all since Oliver doesn’t have anyone holding him back as usual. Of course, he’s polite whenever anyone passes him, but never sticks around long for conversation. Especially since the last time resulted in a snowball fight between him and the twins. 

Finally the end is in sight and he rushes to the shop, trying to hide his excitement as the bell jingles when he enters. Immediately, Oliver is pulled in by the sight of everything and he doesn’t know where to start. There’s new books, gear, even some of the latest broomstick models and he has to hold himself back from grabbing them. 

After a few deep breaths, Oliver calms down a bit and starts to make his way through the shop. He hopes he doesn’t look too ridiculous stopping every two steps, but at the same time doesn’t care because quidditch always, always takes precedence. Eventually, he winds up near the new stock of gloves and begins analyzing every detail because in all honesty, his current pair is getting worn. The Gryffindor barely even notices when someone else enters the shop, only noting the ring of the bell, as he crouches down to get a better look at a certain brand. Upon seeing the price however, Oliver’s stomach drops and he gets up with reluctance. It’s not as if he couldn’t get his parents to buy it for him but he has more pride than that. He’d rather use his own earnings instead of getting what he wants when he wants. 

“Pumpkin juice go down the wrong way this morning?”

The harsh voice interrupting him is unmistakable and Oliver grimaces as this is the last person he wants to see. 

“None of your business, Flint.”

Marcus lets out a short “hmph” but says nothing more, only standing next to Oliver and examining the same gloves. 

“Thought Slytherin was good for this year. What with all the bribing from Malfoy,” Oliver can’t help commenting. Sure, most of Slytherin’s new gear was given to them the year before but it doesn’t mean Oliver’s still not bitter about it. 

No response comes from Marcus, which shocks Oliver. Usually, the Slytherin bites back with alarming speed that leads to even more arguing between the two of them. Now, Oliver starts to worry if Marcus is sick, only to shove that thought in the back of his mind. Him worried about Marcus, that’s a good one. 

Then, Oliver starts to think and realizes he shouldn’t still be hanging around if he really didn’t care. Something about Marcus is making him stay and Oliver can’t place it as he watches the boy picks up the very gloves Oliver had a minute ago. He feels his blood boil a bit but tries to remain calm since he didn’t claim those gloves as his after all. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of the store either just because he started what would probably be a silly fight with Marcus. 

The cash register dings and Oliver then realizes Marcus moved away while he was caught up in his thoughts. Turning around quickly, he can only stare with despondence as the gloves are bagged up and Marcus comes back over to him.

“Here,” Marcus holds the bag out to Oliver.

The first thought in Oliver’s mind is that Marcus is just wanting him to carry his bags around, but then Oliver squints at this gesture.

“Take the bloody bag, Oliver. They’re yours.”

“What?” Oliver squeaks out, his eyes widening to the point of hurting. The Slytherin can’t really be giving something away and expecting nothing in return. It honestly doesn’t feel right.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Marcus grabs Oliver’s hand and shoves it through the handles of the bag. He’s practically controlling Oliver’s movements now as he makes sure Oliver balls his hand up so the bag doesn’t slip down.

“Happy Whatever,” the Slytherin mumbles, immediately heading for the front of the store. 

Oliver is still immobile, trying to understand all that’s happened and goes back and forth from looking at Marcus and the bag in his hands. 

“Wait!” Oliver calls out, rushing out the door after Marcus. 

In the streets, Oliver crashes right into Marcus and stumbles back embarrassed, especially when Marcus glares at him. The Gryffindor isn’t quite sure what to do next, fumbling with his words so all that comes out at first is a garbled mess. He wants to thank Marcus somehow and goes with the only thing that makes sense to him at the moment.

“Want to go get a butterbeer?” 

Oliver is, to say the least, elated when Marcus’s lip curls up slightly and the Slytherin gives him a small nod.

~

“What’s this rumor about you and Flint hanging out all the time?”

Oliver jumps, having been so engrossed in his book that he hadn’t noticed Percy’s entrance into their room. It’s only early afternoon, but according to Percy, he wasn’t supposed to be back until just before dinner.

“I’m doing what now?” Oliver blinks rapidly, hoping he heard the question wrong.

“You. Flint. Together,” Percy states as he crosses his arms. 

His face is unreadable and Oliver curses his bad luck. “We’re not together.”

This seems to frustrate Percy, who shakes his head as he puts his hands on his hips. “I’m not saying together together. I’m saying you two are friends, correct?”

Oliver wants to lie, but upon seeing Percy’s glare, he’s not sure that he can. After Hogsmeade, Oliver has been spending time with Marcus constantly. At first it was just at games and practice but somehow Marcus always manages to track him down in the library and they spend most of their time there. The talk is quidditch, of course, and Oliver has to admit he feels right at home when he’s with Marcus. It’s a comfort he’s never really had before, especially since it’s all coming from a Slytherin. 

“You’re smiling, Oliver,” Percy interrupts his thoughts. The boy seems to have an all-knowing look of his own and Oliver feels there’s no good way out of this. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Oliver mutters and then pounces forward on his bed. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

Percy holds his hands up in defense, crossing his heart. “I don’t need anymore on my plate honestly. I just wanted to see if the rumors were true. As long as you two follow the school rules, I don’t care what you do.”

The last bit is a rather silly comment in Oliver’s mind and he wants to laugh, but chooses to give a small smile. He’s thankful Percy is understanding in this one instance and falls back down on his bed as his friend exits the dorm as quickly as he came. 

Instead of going back to his book however, Oliver starts thinking about Marcus, the word “together” still hanging above him. He goes back to the Christmas party where it all began, remembering Marcus’s face light up and their conversation that lasted for hours. He truthfully misses it. Misses Marcus, even though they’ll see each other after dinner. 

Oliver feels his face heat up and takes to smushing it in the pillows, battling with the thought of Marcus. After a few minutes of turmoil, Oliver rolls back over and stares at the canopy above him.

Being with Marcus wouldn’t be so bad, he concludes. 

~

They did it. They finally won the Cup. Oliver isn’t sure what to do with himself, gripping onto the prize he had worked so hard for. He wants to smile, cheer, and laugh yet all that comes is tears streaming down his face. 

He’s thankful his teammates don’t seem to mind as they’re all celebrating amongst themselves while giving Oliver a mixture of hugs and back slaps (not to mention his brief sobbing into Harry’s shoulder). He manages to get out a few smiles through his crying and that seems to satisfy them enough. 

However, something feels like it’s missing. Yes, Oliver’s ecstatic, beyond the moon, that the Cup is his. Yet the one person he wants to celebrate with isn’t there.

He keeps scanning the crowd, hoping to see the familiar green robes, but none come. Oliver hates this feeling. All he wants to be as happy as the rest of his team and not be caught up in some wishful thinking that maybe Marcus will come to him. That maybe Marcus feels the same way towards whatever it is that they have.

Wiping away the last of his tears, Oliver takes to cradling the Cup in his arms and lets the excitement happen around him. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the large break in the crowd before him.

“Wood!” 

Whipping his head up, Oliver stares at the sight before him. It’s Marcus, angry and broody as ever and Oliver can’t help how nervous he is. He could confess now, tell Marcus how much he likes him. Then again, the Slytherin looks like he’s ready to destroy anything in his path and Oliver thinks this moment might not be the best time. 

The air stills, everyone expecting the worst before Marcus marches over and grabs Oliver’s robes, pulling him into a deep kiss. Oliver doesn’t kiss back at first, only staring wide-eyed at Marcus, until the adrenaline takes over once again and his heart soars. Oliver wraps his arms around Marcus, the Cup banging into the Slytherin’s back which seems to push them even closer together. However, it doesn’t seem to faze either of them as they smile through their kiss. 

“You did it,” Marcus mutters when they break apart. 

The words dry up in Oliver’s mouth and he wants to start crying again. All his worries, doubts, such silly things now that he’s looking back. At this very moment, he has Marcus in his arms and that almost beats winning the Cup. 

Taking a deep breath, Oliver recollects himself and lets go of Marcus to look at his winnings.

“Yeah, I...I beat you.”

Oliver never thought he’d hear genuine laughter from Marcus outside of the library and yet, the day seems to be in his favor. He wants this to last forever, that is, until they hear someone clear their throat. 

It’s then the boys realize that everyone has taken to staring at the two of them, some looking ready to pass out while others seem upset to say the least.

“Alright, take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Marcus bites and that seems to break the spell.

Everyone begins questioning Oliver, practically shoving Marcus out of the way as the Gryffindor team hones in on them. Thinking fast, Oliver grabs Marcus’s sleeve at the last second because, no sir, is he going to go through this alone, and the two take a moment to let everyone get their feelings out.

With a finalizing breath, Oliver begins to answer every question with a surprising amount of patience while Marcus stands next to him like a pouting child with their parent. 

(“No, he’s not part troll, Alicia.”  
“Yes, we just kissed.”  
“Fred, just...no.”)

It isn’t until Professor McGonagall orders everyone to clear out of the pitch that Marcus and Oliver finally get a chance to relax. They linger until the last of them are gone and then finish up with their captain duties.

“Well, that was something,” Oliver half-smirks at Marcus, only to have it turn into a wide grin when the Slytherin’s face forms something that could probably be considered a smile. 

“Yeah, it was overwhelming, but…”

“Nice,” Oliver finishes as the nostalgia hits him.

He can’t help letting out a small laugh when Marcus nods and the other boy raises an eyebrow. 

Oliver just shakes his head. “A story for another time.”

The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Marcus entirely, but he doesn’t question it and instead looks towards the castle. “Suppose we should head in, shouldn’t we?”

Nodding is all Oliver can seem to do at the moment as he stares at the Cup in his hand. The pride starts to well up again, but is interrupted when Oliver feels a hand grab his free one. He automatically squeezes and looks at Marcus for approval, noticing how calm the Slytherin looks for the first time in his life. It really is a sight and Oliver swears he’ll get Colin to capture it on his camera next time.

The two captains head towards the locker rooms, Oliver cradling the Cup in his arm, but his gaze focused on the boy besides him. He blushes when Marcus returns the stare and gives him a playful nudge with his shoulder only to be surprised with a kiss on the forehead. Oliver’s in such a state of bliss, he isn’t quite sure how to respond and just grins at Marcus.

He could certainly get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow first flintwood fanfic. I'm hoping this happens again but idk. I got tired of editing this one lol


End file.
